


My Heart is Gold and My Hands are Cold

by LynchAdam



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Ronan Lynch, Pre-Canon, Ronan Lynch Angst, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynchAdam/pseuds/LynchAdam
Summary: Ronan Lynch wants to be Gansey's friend. He already has friends who might be a tad jealous.
Relationships: Jiang/Joseph Kavinsky/Prokopenko/Skov/Swan/Ronan Lynch, Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey III & Ronan Lynch, Ronan Lynch & Adam Parrish
Kudos: 13





	My Heart is Gold and My Hands are Cold

The first time Ronan Lynch volunteered his hand for Richard Campbell Gansey III, he knew that he wanted him. The boy was fresh meat in school, just shy of his first week back in the states after a long rendezvous in Europe. Despite it, boys flocked to him both popular or not, because everyone knew immediately he was  _ it _ . Not only was he  _ it _ , but he was fought after as if each boy in the school was attention starved for an eternity and he was the only god who could quench their thirst. 

It was at a lunch table surrounded by other freshmen, where Ronan Lynch walked up to the other boy. And see the thing is, he could have asked nicely if he could sit next to him. But he was Ronan Lynch, which meant he formed the most menacing face he could conjure until the boy next to him blushed and left the table. After several comfortable moments in silence next to the boy, endless babbles of conversations flooding his brain, he finally noticed a break. 

“Lynch. Ronan Lynch.” He did not hold out his hand. 

“Gansey. Richard. Nice to meet you, Ronan.” Gansey dropped the hand he extended. 

“I know who you are, man.” 

“Right, well um, look it’s hard to hear you, do you want to find somewhere quieter?” 

Ronan bit his lower lip, see he’d been asked this before by an older boy, and he had definitely  _ not  _ really wanted to listen to Ronan. 

“The bathroom,” Ronan suggested because he wouldn’t mind if that happened with this boy one bit. 

There the two boys stood, mirroring one another with hands shoved into their pockets and apprehension splayed across their faces. Gansey broke first. 

“So, you wanted me?”

“I want to be friends.” 

“Oh,” Gansey chuckled, “You could have said that at lunch.”

“It’s none of those twats’ business what I say to you.” 

“True,” Gansey concurred, sticking his foot out until the toe of his dress shoe reached Ronan’s boot. 

Ronan held his fist out, waiting, until Gansey bumped it, smiles breaking across their faces. Gansey took his hand afterward and opened his palm. The action was sensual whether he meant it or not, and when their palms touched a shiver traveled down the length of Ronan’s spine. 

His pale calloused hand held up against the soft tanned hand supplied a nearly laughable contrast. And then Gansey looked at him and Ronan said the only thing he could say. 

“You have large hands.” 

The meaning of the statement was overtly obvious but the underlying meaning of Ronan saying this proved unclear if Gansey had initially perceived it. 

See what Ronan said was ‘you have large hands’ and what he really meant was ‘slam me against this sink right now and fuck me until my knees give out’. And Gansey was smiling with a quirk now so Ronan decided: why not?

“I’d like to feel them wrapped around my throat.”

And  _ that _ \- Gansey’s face turned a deep shade of red, a trail of splotches garnishing his neck at the statement. 

“I -,” the boy began, “well that’s not - I - I think I - misunderstood or something.” All Gansey managed to sputter out. 

“Okay let me spell it out then, Gansey. I want to be your F-R-I-E-N-D and I also want you to F-U-C-K me. Think about it.” 

Ronan Lynch then did what Lynch men are known best for: he left. 

He saw Gansey after school, standing at his garish Camaro. When the other boy spotted him, he tilted his chin. Ronan walked over to the car until he stood facing the boy. 

“So what’s up,” Ronan asked. 

“Let’s get pizza,” Gansey supplied. 

“Okay, like should I meet you - or -” 

“Come with me, we’ll get your car later.” 

“I don’t have a car,” Ronan replied because he didn’t. Declan had a car. He was supposed to go home with Declan. He texted Declan that a friend would drop him off later today. Or not. Either way, he had a ride assured. 

Declan replied okay because Declan was likely relieved not to share a car with Ronan. 

He saw Kavinsky starting up the Evo, Skov leaning in close while talking animatedly with his hands. That’s his ride later tonight. But not right now. 

Walking over to the passenger side, he sits fluidly in the cracked leather passenger seat.

“What’s the best pizza place in town?”

“Nino’s,” Ronan answered immediately, “How can you drive anyway?” 

“Because,” Gansey actually turned around to check behind him, resting his hand behind Ronan’s head in the process, “I’m sixteen and I passed my exam last year.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

Ronan would be sixteen in about three months. For the rest of the short ride, he remained silent, staring out the window. 

As Gansey pulled up to Nino’s it was evident that every boy in their school had the same idea. Ronan ignored the waitress he called an elf for his favorite section with the gaunt-faced sandy-haired waiter. 

“Afternoon, Parrish,” Ronan cheerfully said after Gansey lowered himself into the booth directly across from him.

Adam Parrish smirked at him, setting down a sweet tea and slice of pepperoni. “There you are, Lynch. Thought you weren’t coming today.” 

“I always do,” Ronan remarked, handing Gansey a menu. 

Then - right as Gansey politely asked for a slice of avocado pizza with a sweet tea - Ronan’s  _ thing _ walked in. Adam rolled his eyes and stalked off.

What exactly the thing with the older boy  _ is _ has remained unclear since the start of the summer, but he’d found himself tidily bent over the white Mitsubishi enough to permanently dent the hood. Joseph Kavinsky, known to all among him as ‘K’, slithered to their table. Ronan liked men that fought back, and thus far, Kavinsky had been most successful in leaving him with several bloody noses. 

“Ronan Lynch, you naughty boy,” Kavinsky cackled at his own joke, “I thought you wanted a ride, but I see you found yourself one.”

Gansey let out a nervous laugh - he seemed caught off guard in general by Kavinsky’s presence. 

Ronan smiled casually but did not invite the boy to sit down. Not because he cared either way, but this was all a part of their game. Ronan enjoyed playing hard to get, and Kavinsky thrived from the overt rejection leading up to Ronan’s eventual submission. 

“Richard Gansey,” Gansey supplied, holding his hand out. 

Kavinsky stared at it as if he were from outer space. 

“Does no one shake hands here,” Gansey muttered low, putting his hand back down.

“We only shake dick around here,” Kavinsky laughed bizarrely, “Dick Gansey, huh?” 

“Just Ga-” 

“Ronan will have to just shake you instead, I guess.” 

Gansey politely laughed, but the blush creeping up his face led Ronan to kick Kavinsky’s sneaker hard. 

“Get lost,” Ronan snarled.

Kavinsky chuckled darkly, stepping expertly out of Adam’s way with the slice and sweet tea. “Ronan shakes every dick in town, Dick. And he slobbers them up nicely too, isn’t that right, Parrish?” 

Adam pinched his face together in a swift manner, the apples of his cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. The boy shrugged, before striding off. 

“He’s not camera shy either,” Kavinsky suggested as he finally walked to the booth adorning his little fuck-buddy crew. 

Gansey looked at Ronan as if the boy would joke or offer some explanation to Kavinsky. Ronan ate his slice in two bites instead. There was no point in denying it - Ronan had slept with or at least given blow jobs to 75% of the men here. The other 25% were yet to be had. Ronan liked being fucked, and he liked making other boys’ knees as weak as their previously-sure sexuality. 

“So, am I just a game to you,” Gansey asked, brows drawn together, “Another fuck?”

Several boys began whispering at the next tables because Gansey had nearly spit out the last part of his question. 

“Can’t a guy just like a good fuck?” 

“I’m not a toy, and I won’t be used,” Gansey stood abruptly, slamming a $20 bill down on the table before grabbing his keys. “Find your own ride home, Ronan.” 

Ronan awkwardly sat there until Gansey stalked out, and kept sitting even as he heard the Camaro's engine turn over prior to leaving the lot. Then Ronan got to work securing a ride home, heading over to Kavinsky’s table and placing a hand high on Nicolo Prokopenko’s thigh. Blake Skovron patted the seat next to him.

“There you are,” Kavinsky stated in a sultry tone as Ronan sat down, “I’d like you better on your knees though.”

“We can fix that,” Ronan snapped back. 

That’s how Ronan ended up with four of Blake Skovron’s fingers in his mouth, a trail of his own saliva coating the boy’s bare chest. By now, Ronan was pretty fucked out by the older boys, but Skov always was his favorite so he saved the California-surfer-stoner-boy for last.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Skov murmured, Ronan whimpering softly as the tip of the boy’s fingers hit the back of his throat. Skov had dyed his hair an electric blue last weekend, and it suited him. “Let me dye it pink,” Skov muttered while gripping a chunk of Ronan’s dark brown curls. 

Ronan answered - well as best he could given current circumstances - with a garbled no. 

“Oh baby,” Skov laughed when more drool dripped onto his chest, “You know pink would look good.”

Ronan gags as Skov shoves his fingers halfway down his damn throat, another whimper leaving him. 

“How about now, princess? Pretty pink for a good little boy,” the fingers went further, Ronan gagging louder. His face flushed when he heard Prokopenko’s laughter in the background. 

He -  _ God _ \- Skov kept his fingers like that for what felt like an eternity until tears started to fall from Ronan’s eyes. Until Ronan wailed and nodded his head desperately. Even then, Skov pulled them out painstakingly slow. The instant his fingers vacated Ronan’s mouth, he shuddered and came all over the boy’s chest. 

A week later, Ronan Lynch walked around Aglionby with hot pink hair dye, and he might have been made fun of if every single boy wasn’t scared of him. A week later, Gansey still avoided him painstakingly. A week later, and he still found himself on his knees in a bathroom stall waiting for the next boy to walk in. A week of Matthew asking with a mouth full of half-chewed food why Ronan wanted his hair pink. 

Two weeks until Richard Gansey finally stumbled into his stall, hands quickly working the button and zipper of his pants and pulling out his dick. Ronan knelt stunned, mouth gaping open for Gansey anyway, and even as the boy slid it into his mouth, he still couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. 

Gansey didn’t speak, and Ronan couldn’t obviously, so he worked the other boy over until hot come splattered down his throat. After, he suckled at the softening tip for a while before Gansey hissed and popped it out of his mouth.

“Christ,” Gansey moaned, “You -” 

Ronan shivered. Gansey looked so fucking hot standing there above him. Gansey buttoned up his pants, leaving the stall with a flushed face. 

After school, he leaned against Skov’s beat-up RX-7 until he saw the older boy leave the side door of the gym. 

“There he is,” Skov warmly stated, leaning in to kiss his forehead when he was close enough. Ronan blushed furiously at the gentle action. “What do you want with me, baby doll?”

Ronan put his hands around Skov’s waist, resting his head against the boy’s thin chest. Skov is the only boy he allows himself to become vulnerable in front of except for his younger brother. He fits against Skov’s chest in the perfect way, as the boy wraps his arms around him tightly. 

“I just -” Ronan doesn’t really know what to say so he cries for some ungodly reason, snot ruining Skov’s hoodie. 

A lot of thoughts flood his brain, but the only one he can settle on is that it hurts. It all hurts. His dad is still on a trip. Declan is a prick, Mom is endlessly doting over Matthew, and Matthew is oblivious to all of it which might be worse than knowing. 

“I wish I could just start over,” Ronan states softly after several minutes.

Skov laughs, poking his side until Ronan laughs, “Then do it.” 

“How?” 

“Live a little, Ronan.” 

Ronan sighs. “Aren’t I already doing that, moron?”

Skov leans back. Stares at Ronan with an unreadable expression. Spits directly into his face, Ronan reaching up and slapping him harshly. 

“Now, that is living!” Skov bellows, a giggle leaving him. Ronan rolls his eyes. 

A text from Gansey lights up along his screen. 

_ Fine, let’s be F-R-I-E-N-D-S. Truce? _

_ Truce,  _ Ronan texts back with a genuine smile. 


End file.
